Sensation
by Banterbug
Summary: I subconsciously felt the eyes upon me, faintly heard the soft patter of footsteps draw closer. I didn’t want to make eye contact. If I did, I felt that I would collapse in a fearful paralysis.


Sensation.

I always remember the afternoon well for some distinct and yet unknown reason. It was dark - unusually dark for a spring afternoon. The tall grass bristled uneasily in the breeze almost ominously, the snowdrops bowing their heads silently and obediently to nature as a bird flew overhead (which did not bother me so much that I would need to cower). I inhaled and tiptoed across the meadow, shielding myself from wandering and suspicious eyes of other creatures apart from myself. There had been a rumour lately, involving the disappearance of a close friend of mine, who exited his home one morning and did not return. It unsettled me, as our area was considered one of harmony and serenity. I guess not so much now. I let the air overwhelm me and felt disappointed; the wind was dry, not like the previous days, where it had been fresh and carefree, like an infant let out on a day of a family gathering. I approached The Oak, and rubbed up against it. The neighbours were absent, and so I clumsily heaved up a piece of bread that they had scavenged and began to jump over the unruly roots surrounding the place. My family had burdened me with the responsibility of collecting forgotten foodstuff that had been left around The Oak. Mother was kind and generous; she always offered things to those who needed it, whereas Father was more stern and opinionated. Together, their personalities fitted almost perfectly and I was brought up, as I should be. If there _is _a particular way to be brought up, I don't think I'll find out how. Perhaps I will ask Lila once I get home – it isn't very far away, and I'm a considerable sprinter, if somewhat awkward. I like to dance. It comes to naturally to me. Then again, everything about my kin and myself is natural, if you get my drift.

I miss the old days, when our generation was undiscovered and we roamed these lands freely. That was many years ago, as the Doctor counts time. He's really very clever, though a tiny bit lazy. He's good at running too, but he seems rude when he does it. I'm just polite. 'There is nothing worse than being unmannerly to a stranger who can do you no harm,' Father would always tell me. Though I can't say I've met a stranger who can do me harm. As I said, The Meadow is a peaceful place. Some time ago the nice lady left to raise her own family, allowing us to roam free. I've never visited the shack she used to dwell in, but I'm going to when I'm older. Mother says that it isn't a safe place for young people like me. I got quite annoyed with her for that – I'm not a baby anymore, after all! She says the poachers hang around there, throwing multicoloured rocks at everything in sight. Father came across a Poacher once. He said that while he was retaliating, an opponent in the process hurt him. He doesn't know of its name but, when retelling the story (which he often does), he refers to the creature as 'It'. It had a jet-black mane and golden energy ran from it often, quick as lightning. I shivered thinking of such a thing. Sprinting across the meadow now, I wanted to get home badly. I was late.

I subconsciously felt the eyes upon me, faintly heard the soft patter of footsteps draw closer. I didn't want to make eye contact. If I did, I felt that I would collapse in a fearful paralysis. I made a sharp turn into the grass, instinctively feeling my way along the moist earth. A flash appeared from behind me, a few grunted words muttered as I ducked to avoid a series of stars that whooped over my head. I gave a squeaky squeal. The voice was hazy and in my peripheral vision I could see a bulky figure leap in front of me. Its small jagged teeth gleamed in the approaching darkness and as it shot toward me, I found myself exerting an unusual spore, which stopped the creature in its tracks. Terrified, I took my chance and avoided the creature that was standing stiff as a board next to me. I heard a crack and another flash of white light evolved into another form in front of me. This time, it was a bird, and its wings created a gust as it blew me backward. I thudded against the ground, squirming, a roaring headache penetrating my senses. I released another spray of spores, but The Bird avoided it and took to the skies. I crawled along feebly, before finding the strength to heave myself up. The Bird approached and I shot the tips of my weedy little arms into the air, releasing an array of violet needles that aimed for my attacker. The Bird faltered, but continued to plummet, and struck me. Barely willing, I rolled into the grass, tired out. I tried to stand up, but The Bird held me down. As I whined, I missed my Mother and Father, and I knew they were all waiting for me to join them back home. This creature couldn't take me - I needed to get home! I saw them withdraw something from their waist and fling it in my direction. All I remember is the image of a twisting sphere, the thud of it against my chest, and the nauseating feeling of utter evaporation. My head spun, my body became numb, and as the world before me dimmed, I heard the whiz of a machine and a convenient 'ding'.

The world went black for a moment. Hushed voices whispered incoherently near me. I rested, preparing for a future as little more than a captive. And as I waited silently, wishing for the stir of moved grass or the taste of fresh air, I realised what I missed and had taken for granted at times in my freedom.

Sensation.


End file.
